Jenkins's attempt at nonchalance was clearly unconvincing; Papa Oliver easily saw that his apprentice was brimming with curiosity. Instead of imdiately answering his questions, he directed Jenkins to carry his suitcase up to the second floor. Only then did he start to explain.
"There's no need to be so curious; it's nothing terribly important," he began. "About a dozen years ago, after I had settled down in Nolan, I traveled with a rchant caravan to procure goods. The steam railways weren't nearly as developed back then, so we had to take a carriage to reach the smaller country towns. One of the older rchants in our group caught a bad chill on the road and passed away not long after. The rest of us sold off his wares and sent the money back to his family in his hotown."
"While I was at the gentleman's... yes, the Skrelett family ho, I discovered a fascinating oil painting and wanted to buy it. But Mrs. Skrelett refused to sell. Instead, she offered to lease it to for ten years. The rent she asked for was very low, and the shop was in need of a real showpiece at the ti, so I agreed. All these years, I've been mailing the rent to Mrs. Skrelett, along with a thank-you note at the end of each year. I have to say, I'm surprised by how little she seems to have aged over all this ti."
The "showpiece" Papa Oliver referred to was the antique shop's crown jewel, an item that represents the establishnt's prestige and substance. Such pieces are usually only for exhibition and are rarely sold.
"I don't think I've ever seen the painting you're talking about."
Jenkins glanced at the walls of the antique shop as he spoke. He knew perfectly well what hung there; the gesture was purely subconscious.
"Oh, I took it down from display about three years ago. Antique paintings are notoriously difficult to preserve, after all. It's currently in a safe deposit box at Travelers' Bank. I'll write a letter shortly to ask Mrs. Skrelett to co by tomorrow. Since you're leaving on your trip the day after, co back tomorrow morning. If I'm not here, you can handle the matter on your own, then go about your business."
As he spoke, Papa Oliver noticed three shimring golden hairs behind Chocolate's ear.
"How did your cat grow fur this color? As I recall, when humans grow a single, oddly colored strand of hair, it can be a sign of malnutrition or an unbalanced diet. You should probably look into it."
"I'm not entirely sure myself. It's probably a case of *too much* nutrition. It certainly ate well with during the end-of-year festivities."
Divine power could certainly be considered "abundant nutrition," so Jenkins didn't feel he was lying.
Papa Oliver wasn't truly concerned anyway. He knew Jenkins would never be careless with Chocolate.
The two chatted for a while longer about the incredible things that had happened in the city during the week Papa Oliver was away, and then they parted ways at the corner of Fifth Queen's Avenue.
Papa Oliver headed for the church, while Jenkins went to the club to et his friends.
When he pushed open the door to their room, only Hathaway was inside, uncharacteristically engrossed in a newspaper. Jenkins had seldom seen her reading one—not because she was uninterested in current affairs, but simply because they rarely t in the morning.
"Is Miss Mikhail not here yet?"
Having gone to et Papa Oliver, Jenkins was later than usual. Normally, Miss Mikhail would have already asked the servants for a second pot of tea by now.
"Briny sent word a little while ago," Hathaway explained. "Her mother has caught a chill, so she likely won't be here until this afternoon. There's a nasty flu going around Nolan lately. People like us don't often fall ill, but it's still best to be cautious."
With just the two of them in the room, her tone was more relaxed. It was, strictly speaking, quite improper for an unmarried man and woman to be alone together, but neither she nor Miss Mikhail seed to pay any mind to such conventions when it ca to Jenkins.
"Did you hear about what happened last night?"
As expected, she brought it up.
"Yes, a teorite wiped out an entire city block. I wonder if the Church will be able to salvage any teoric iron or star fragnts. Those are used for forging..."
Seeing the sharp look she gave him, Jenkins imdiately dropped his pretense.
"I was up quite late last night and happened to see it all from my window—the God of Lies, and that monster under the Blood Moon," Jenkins admitted. "Honestly, the sight was staggering. Even though an Enchanter's abilities grow stronger with their level, I doubt any mortal could ever freeze a cascading waterfall from the heavens with a single punch, the way he did."
"No, a demigod could," she countered. "But I doubt a *mortal* demigod could have frozen that river of blood. It was hardly ordinary liquid."
Hathaway seed remarkably well-inford about the previous night's events. In the ensuing conversation, she was even able to describe the actions of the gods who had appeared.
She had no connection to the vampires whatsoever, but if one were forced to find a link, it would have to be through George Liverpool.
Although no one but Jenkins had seen the young man's face before his transformation, the Church had easily located the fateful apartnt on Hamrhead Street within the ruined district. Using their own thods, they deduced what had transpired there and uncovered George Liverpool's role in the affair.
But that investigative report had yet to be written. Jenkins himself hadn't known the Church had already delved so deep, yet here was Hathaway, able to connect Liverpool to the incident.
It was truly incredible. What's more, when Jenkins had taken to the sky the night before, he hadn't spotted Hathaway anywhere in the vicinity. He imdiately suspected that the "Wondrous Musical Score" had bestowed a new ability or blessing upon her after its descent—a suspicion that was about to be confird.
"You're usually the one telling about the new gods," she said. "But this ti, I think my information is more complete."
With a light laugh, she raised a hand to her right ear. She was wearing the diamond earring Jenkins had asked her to hold onto. In truth, it was as good as a gift, since he had no use for it himself.
"A friend of mine helped enhance this earring's function not long ago," she revealed. "Now I can easily 'notice' disturbances much farther away... Well, you told about its origins. It turns out the earring is connected to the deity I follow, which is why it was so easily empowered."
At this, she lowered her head and with long, elegant fingers, piously traced the holy symbol of the God of Music over her heart.
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